There is an old saying, "The quick and the dead." This implies that one has to be quick to be alive, and that the dead are standing still. This isn't exactly true. The dead are frozen in years, they do not age beyond their mortal end, but damn, the dead travel fast.

So, are you wondering how I came across this interesting piece of trivia? It's kinda weird. I use to work on this show. It was about things that went bump in the night, and it was about these bad ass brothers that put the monsters down for good.

There was always something new to hunt, every week a new location, a new thing going bump in the night, and me and my pretend brother would hop into this awesome 1967 Chevy Impala and save the day, and we'd always have our moment riding into the sunset or into the dusk or dawn, whichever it happened to be that week.

Things happen on the set of television shows. There was a new location every week, but the crew never left Vancouver. It was just really great set design. Not to say that filming on location would have made a difference. Television is a medium of the imagination, and sometimes it gives too much creative license to the stupid Texas boys playing pretend and making a livin' off it.

I guess the story really starts midway through filming the second season of our show Supernatural. It was a good show, one of those shows with heart, that wasn't all sexed up, or catering to every teenage fantasy. There was integrity and hell, Eric Kripke was determined to keep it real to the characters and not deviate from the integrity of Sam and Dean Winchester.

Me? I'm Jared Padalecki; I was Sam Winchester, younger brother, psychic, kick ass demon hunter, and Dean's responsibility since forever. Dean, now there was a cool as hell bad ass if ever there was one. He was played by Jensen Ackles, a fellow Texan, like myself, and we had chemistry, hell, we ended up being the best of friends, and then things start to get hazy. The lines between friendship, brothers, and something else gets blurred. A lot of things are blurry now.

I remember during the second day of shooting, it was the episode with Katherine Isabel and Sterling K. Brown. Jensen's character Dean was a little tied up and as a joke, thought up by yours truly, we left him there and went on to lunch. Needless to say Jensen was pretty pissed about the whole thing. I came back about fifteen minutes later, the set was deserted except for him tied in that damn chair, gagged and giving me a look to kill.

Like he really thought I'd just leave him there. Hell, he's a Texas boy! I know all about the appetite of a Texas boy, since I'm a big ol' Texan myself. Of course I wasn't gonna just leave him there. I was just giving him some time to reflect on how he could get my ass back. Low and behold, I was in for a helluva lesson, because Jensen knows how to be sneaky. The man's a bonafide tease when he wants to be.

He was rocking the chair and glaring at me, making angry sounds from behind the gag. I knew I was in deep shit for this one. I'm a pretty big guy and shit up to my neck is pretty damn deep.

With a sigh, and a trepidation not unlike ripping away a Band-Aid over a particular sore spot, I took the make shift gag away from Jensen's mouth. I was very tempted to put it back in a second later.

"God dammit Jared! Untie me right the fuck now or so help me! Oh I'm kicking your ass for this! I know you're the fucker that came up with the idea of just leaving me tied up here! Fuck man! I'm hungry and freezin' my ass off! Untie me now, or I swear I'll show you exactly what I've had planned for you since the day I fuckin' met you!"

That last threat caught my attention. Jensen had plans for me since the day he met me. Now I knew Jensen pretty well, but what kind of plans was he talking about? Was he really some pranking genius biding his time to school me in the ways of getting one over on somebody? No way. Jensen could appreciate a good joke, but pull one off? I'd have staked a weeks worth of sugar rushes on the answer being no, and that's a lot of candy, if you're one Jared Tristan Padalecki.

"What ya got planned behind my back, Jenny bean?" I asked, cause with something like that hanging in the air I just had to taunt him, push him that extra little bit.

His eyes glittered, and yes, I actually swallowed nervously. This wasn't like Jensen. Sure the guy had plenty of secrets and he wasn't all that into sharing, but this was something huge, and this was me we were talking about.

"I know she dumped you, Jay. She's crazy as hell to do that too. It's because of that Pussycat Doll's thing, right? She's not worth the time you wasted. Not if she can't see what's right in front of her face. Untie me Jay," he said, his voice was husky, doing funny things to me.

My stomach flipped and I wondered how he knew about Sandy, that was all just last week and I hadn't gotten around to telling him or anyone yet, I just locked it away until our beer night which was coming up this weekend. Damn. I couldn't have been that transparent. But apparently I was.

"How'd you know about that, Jen?"

He shrugged as best he could against the ropes. "I know you, Jay. Now cut these damn ropes. Set guys tied me up real good this time. I can't slip out like I usually do."

"You gonna try and kick my ass if I do?"

Jensen rolled his eyes. "While you might deserve it, Kripke would have my ass on his wall if we disfigured ourselves before the next take."

"Good point."

"Doesn't mean I'm not gonna get you back."

I should have taken that as a promise. Should have feared those words coming back to haunt me. I should have figured out how he knew Sandy dumped me.

He was right about the knots. They were damn good. I had to cut him loose. He brought his hands around, and rubbed the circulation back into his wrists, then he looked up at me, his eyes glittered, and again there was this static in the air and I was nervous.

Now I'm all bouncy energy at the best and worst of times, but nervous never factors in. I usually go still when I'm nervous. I was frozen as he stood up. I was the goddamn mouse being offered to the hungry snake, and he was getting closer, closer, and then he struck.

He pulled his head back for a moment and that was all the warning I got before his lips were against mine, moving, and my mouth fell open, and his tongue slipped inside, and his hands grabbed my waist, jerking me forward, and this was it. It was time to play, and dammit, I was beginning to like the game.

When the bastard finally let me up for air he smirked at me. Fucking smirked! And then said, "Always wondered what that damn dirty mouth tasted like. Thought it would be teeth rottin' sweet, but it's got edge, like a warhead, some sweet with a lot of tart."

"Fuck you."

He winked then. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' after work, Jay. Need something to wind down after that fight scene I got coming up."

I choked. "You're serious?"

"Not like you have Sandy anymore, and I know you haven't been cheatin' on lefty and righty. Take a walk on the wild side. Ever fuck a guy before?"

I swallowed, wondering what I was getting into.

----------

The smell of coffee wafts in my face and I pull back a little, find the bed empty and then I crack open an eye. A steaming cup of coffee is sitting on the bedside table, and Jensen is practically in my face. I pull back for a moment and then settle back in my pillows as he sits down on the bed, the mattress dipping and bringing me closer to him.

We've never gone this far before, but with the hiatus, and a long awaited and much needed break things have changed. Ever since I cut him loose from that chair on the day of that prank, things have changed.

In between takes we relieved a lot of tension. That's what he calls it, relieving tension. We kiss, jerk each other off. Sometimes he'd suck me, and hell I've gotten him off a few times with my mouth. I'm a fast learner.

Last night though, the first night of our couple months of freedom, a week before our separate flights to Texas and California, things change.

A couple of drinks are involved, and then I'm pressed against the wall, and he's there, and then there's my bedroom, my bed beneath my back and him on top, and then we roll and I'm on top, and not much is making sense until he's buried inside of me, and then hours later I'm buried in him, and it's all clear.

I'm pretty much fucked, because it's casual fucking to him. Hell, he's been around the Hollywood scene longer than me; he never does anything meaningful in a relationship. Hell, he hardly does the relationship thing beyond friendship, and we've got a really good friendship going, that's how I know all about casual fucking. Get Ackles drunk enough and he lets out a lot of his little dark secrets.

I'm pretty much fucked, because this is friends with benefits for him, but me? Me? I'm flowers and hearts, and flat out in love with the bastard. My best friend and I've broken the cardinal rule, I'm in love, and that's the part of the equation that doesn't add up, that's the thing that fucks up a good friendship.

----------

The news is great. We have what looks like a solid season three in the making. Hell, they're even moving us back to our Tuesday time slot; apparently Veronica Mars just doesn't make the cut. At least we won't be competing with Grey's Anatomy anymore, because that is no contest. Grey's wins no matter what.

So Jen and I go out and get wasted to celebrate, because it ain't celebrating until you're shit-faced drunk.

Maybe going out to the bar and getting drunk isn't the best idea after all. At least that's what I'm thinking as he shoves me against the wall in the men's room, his tongue down my throat, his hips grinding against me, and then there's the sound of the hinges creaking and the door is opening and shit. All I can think about is we are about to get caught, it's gonna be all over the papers, and there goes our third season up in flames because we can't keep our dicks in our pants and our hands off of each other.

And shit, how would my parents feel finding out that I'm fucking my very male co-star on the front page of some tabloid. I should at least tell them over the phone or better yet face-to-face.

Thankfully no one comes in, and the door falls shut again, but it's a close call, too damn close for comfort. I pull back, and Jensen slumps forward against me. He's in worse shape than I am.

He looks up at me through hooded eyes and a lazy Cheshire cat grin. "Been doin' some soul searchin', Jay. You know, about this, us. We got a good thing goin'. You know that? Show's gettin' the recognition it deserves. You do that great thing with your tongue, and Christ man, the way you rock your hips. There ain't none of that other shit either. The kinda shit that complicates things. Like with chicks you have to talk after, with us, we just crack open a beer and everything's cool. Like that about you, Jay…"

He goes silent after that. At first I think he might have passed out, but no, he's just gone all thoughtful, and doesn't want to share anymore. He's very secretive, more lately than he's ever been.

He doesn't say another word until we're out of the cab, stumbling up to my place, and I've got the key in the door. His hand is over my heart and I wonder if he realizes that my heart's going a mile a minute, and my throat is dry, because I know how fucked I am, and I want to tell him, I want to let it all out, but I'm cool. We don't do the talking thing, we just crack open a beer, and that's enough. Except it isn't. Not for me. Not anymore.

I get the door open, and then I push it in and he stumbles, falls into me, and we tumble to the floor together and somehow he kicks the door shut and then he's laughing. It's a hysterical sound, sends a shiver through me and I wonder where it's coming from.

"Flat on my lonely face, it's how I always land and I feel, finding in the end I live well in the light of the life that I have found, it's coming down, and I'm falling. I'm always fucking falling and I don't know what isn't real, but it's easy to beat me, because you won't stop. You never stop, Jay," he whispers in slurs, and my heart is a trip hammer. I don't understand what he's saying, not really, but I'm hoping it's along the same lines as how I feel.

----------

The phone rings, and I pick it up without thinking, and I get the shock of my life.

"Sandy?" I say in disbelief.

"Jared, I've been thinking. I've missed you, and I know it's been awhile, but I can't stop thinking about you," she says, and I feel a twinge of guilt, because I haven't thought of her in so long.

"Is something wrong? Hell, it's been months, Sandy, what do you want from me?" I ask, and I know it sounds rude, but I can't think of much else to say.

"We still talk, Jared. You always listen, and now I'm ready. I want what we had before," she says.

"I don't have that to give anymore," I answer.

"Is there someone else?" she asks, and then sighs. "It's him, isn't it? I knew he had a thing for you the first time I saw you together. Careful Jared, he uses people."

"It's not like that, Sandy," I reply.

"Sure it is, you just don't know it," she says, and there's finality in her voice as she whispers, "Goodbye, Jared."

"Bye Sandy," I reply to the dial tone, hang up, and then I look up and Jensen's glaring at me, a towel around his waist, water dripping from his short, spiked hair, and down his body, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I thought you stopped talking to her. What else have you lied to me about? What the fuck, man? She knows about us? I thought I could fucking trust you! How could you do this? And what if she takes this to the press? Talk about a fucking field day!"

"Jensen! She just knew, and she's not like that! She wouldn't do that," I say, trying to defend my ex-girlfriend to my best friend, boyfriend, lover, whatever the fuck he is.

He's still pissed when we arrive on set for our first day of filming the premiere of our third season.

James Marsters is there, he's the bad guy this week, and there's a scene between his character and Dean. He's a cop, and Dean gets shot, but the twist is, he's a ghost cop, and the bullet goes through Dean like a ghost, but if he doesn't help solve the last case the cop worked then the wound becomes real and kills him. He has seventy-two hours before the bullet does its damage.

James pulls the trigger like the scene calls for, and I'm off set watching Jensen work, when the gun kicks back in James' hand, and the sound of the shot is deafening. Jensen is thrown back, and suddenly his clothes are heavy with red blossoming. At first I think it's an awesome new trick from our effects team, but then Jensen turns his head to look at me and I'm running on set. Fuck it if I've ruined the shot, because this is real, and there's blood trailing from the corners of his mouth and I can taste it on my lips as I kiss him over and over and reassure him that it's going to be fine. And then I'm screaming for an ambulance.

----------

I wake up with a jolt. I'm in my bed with the white Egyptian cotton sheets and Jensen snug and safe in my arms. I pull him closer, my whole body trembling at the nightmare. This clenches it.

I can't lose Jensen, because there is no living without him. I have to tell him the truth. He has to know that it's more than casual fucking, because I'll go crazy if I don't tell him, that stupid fucking dream just proves it.

I bend my head down, press my lips against his shoulder, and slowly he begins to wake up. He shifts until he's facing me, mumbling about wanting sleep and then he looks at me, feels me trembling around him and says, "What Jay? You're shaking man. The hell?"

I pull him tighter against me because he's alive, breathing, and while I'm probably scaring the shit out of him, he's naked in my arms and there's no gaping wound in his stomach, no blood at the corners of his mouth, and he's warm, and solid, and real.

"You're scaring me, dude. Just tell me what's wrong," he says, and his hand is smoothing back my hair.

"I love you, and I don't ever want to see you hurt," I blurt out, and his hand stills in my hair, and he just stares back at me, his mouth falling open. He shakes his head, licks his lips, leans forward, and then his mouth is on mine, and he doesn't have to say it, because I know.

No more pining. No more misunderstandings. He feels the same way. All the worries since our first time, when we went all the way, it's done. There's this and it's real, and he's not hurt. There's just warmth, light, the smell of coffee in the air, and he's in my arms.

Everything is right in the world, and I just let myself drift off into sleep as he settles back down against me, his head on my chest, just over my heart, his hand kneading my hip, and this is it. This is what I want, what I've always wanted. I'm home and it's a lazy setting and he's real, knows the truth, and he's staying.

----------

There is a strange light behind Jensen, a light that promises peace, and it looks everlasting. I blink against it, because my senses tell me that it should hurt my eyes, but it doesn't. There is no pain. Just light and peace, and the bittersweet smell of coffee that always reminds me of him, because he's addicted to the stuff.

He looks down at me, and I follow his gaze. I see the white and the blue-grey of the gown on me. There are tubes running from my arms, and wires hooked up to my chest, and a funny tube in my nose. I know somewhere that I should feel these things, that it should hurt and my body should ache, but for the moment there is nothing, just me lying in a hospital bed, wondering how I got there, and Jensen, Jensen standing beside my bed with the smell of bittersweet coffee, the smell of home, the light almost blinding behind him and that promise of everlasting.

"You have a choice to make, Jay," he whispers softly, and the words hang in the air, drifting around me. His voice has always been the perfect weapon to use against me. I think he knows it too. There's not much he doesn't know about me anymore.

"What do you mean, Jen? What happened? How did I get here?" I ask, and my voice is normal, but shouldn't I be hoarse? How long have I been here?

Jensen takes in a small breath and smiles down at me, he reaches down, pushes some hair from my face, a gesture that is so familiar, but almost doesn't feel real.

"You've been here awhile, Jay. You're just kind of lingering. I slipped in after visiting hours. Didn't think it would be right to come here while your Momma was visiting. They miss you, you know. All this time you've been spending with me. Not that I'm complaining. I never can when it comes to you, but I can't take this away from you. You have a choice, Jared."

"What kind of choice?" I ask.

He sighs and turns his face to the ceiling and when he looks back at me tears are sparkling in his eyes and a couple slip down his cheeks.

"We were working on the premier of the third season. We managed to get James Marsters in on the project as that week's monster. In the scene he pulled a gun on me. The stunt, which, it wasn't really much of a stunt, but things went a little Brandon Lee like The Crow. A few days later you went out, got wasted and wrapped your truck around a tree. All I could do was watch. That was a few months ago, and I've been with you when you needed me, I've never left, but God, Jay, I've seen your parents and your sister and your brother and his family. They come to see you all the time. God, your momma hardly ever leaves anymore. My momma has even come to see you a couple of times. Hell, even Murray's checked in on you. They know about us now. You left a God damned note with the bartender for Christ's sake. You wanted to die," Jensen says with a small bark of a bitter laugh. "You wanted to die for something that was just some casual fucking, right? That's all it was. So why? Why did you want to fucking die?!"

I flinched at his words, his raised voice. It has always been more to me, and then the light grew brighter, a thing that I didn't think possible, and I closed my eyes. Memories came back. Three days, and the doctors said something about bleeding out, the heart not being able to take the strain anymore, the fight was done.

I remember the bottom dropping out, my knees hitting the floor. Kripke was there, he put a hand on my shoulder, but it wasn't enough. He thought I'd just lost a friend, not… Not someone that I was in love with. There was too much. I had to get away. I took off in my truck, found that bar we both loved so much, knocked back a couple of shots that turned into a few, until I'd gone through a bottle and a half and the bartender cut me off.

While I drank I'd written something down on a napkin. I left it with the bartender, got in my truck and didn't stop until the tree stopped me.

"I was riding shotgun with you, man. I was there the whole time. I finally get it, all the lingering. I didn't think any of that shit from the show was real. Hell, I'm wondering if maybe I should be salted down and burned, but I still don't think that'll be enough, or that my momma would allow it," Jensen says, and his voice is soft again.

I slowly open my eyes and swallow thickly, tears are falling freely down my face and I need to reach up and touch him, feel that he's there. He pulls away, so my fingers fall short of his face, his beautiful face.

"So, here's your choice, Jay. Let me go or let your family go. If you let me go, you'll make a full recovery, it'll take some time getting your strength back, but you'll get there, and you'll live a long life. Don't let a little tension release hold you back from that. You can live, Jay."

I shake my head. "Is that what it was, what it's been for you? Casual fucking? What about the hiatus? What about the laughs and my dogs, and just lying in bed, my arms around you, and just sharing the same space and the same air? How is any of that fucking casual?"

"Its not," he replies weakly. "But is it enough to let your family go? You've known them your whole life, your momma, your daddy, Jeff, Megan. Hell, even Chad Michael Murray, though I couldn't blame you for that one. You would let all of that go?"

"You did," I say.

Jensen shakes his head, looks at me sadly. "No, Jay. I never got the choice. I was too far gone, there was no coming back when my body kept falling apart. I tried for three days, to hold on to my family, to you, but it wasn't my choice, even though I fought like hell. They never saw you coming. How you held on, wouldn't let me go. It's why I'm here. I want to stay, Jay, I do, but it's not my place."

I nod and then I pull the IV from my arm, remove the electrodes and wires from my chest, take the tube out of my nose.

"Jared! What are you doing?"

"If you're not there, it's not my place either. I wanna go home, Jen. Home's got the smell of that coffee you love so much, a little sugar, but mostly black, it's got you, and it's everlasting. No damn end in sight. We'll probably still fight, but that makes the making up better. There's the quick and the dead, Jen, but the dead travel fast, even if they never grow old. This is how I wanna see you, always. So we gonna go all Betty J. Eadie and head for the light or what?"

He calls me a stupid son of a bitch, but then he pulls me close and kisses me hard, and that's it, the light is all around us, and then there's the smell of coffee in the air, the dogs are at our feet, and it might be a long wait before I see my momma and daddy and Megan and Jeff, and their families, Harley and Sadie and Chad, but I'm home. The dead travel fast, I don't remember the journey, it was just one step and now I'm home, and Jensen's laughing and smiling, and stirring something on the stove, and who cares that we don't really need to eat as long as it's better than my shit cooking?

End.